


A certain darkness, the light of your being

by ScripturientMuse



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:24:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11865654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripturientMuse/pseuds/ScripturientMuse
Summary: Connor McKinley didn’t quite remember when he lost himself, but he was 22 when he found himself again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own anything except my imagination...
> 
> Second chapter is basically finished and should be posted in about week. Won’t leave you hanging, I promise :)

“Elder McKinley? Are you alright?”

Connor closed his eyes and sighed. The last thing he needed was an inquisition by a concerned Elder – particularly Elder Price, who was too much for Connor to handle on a good day, let alone a bad one. “I’m perfectly fine, Elder, why do you ask?” he chirped, wincing as he felt his headache throb.

He heard Price approach from behind. “I mean, you’ve been scrubbing that plate for the past 10 minutes. I’m pretty sure it’s clean by now.”

Only it wasn’t, because there was still a stain and Connor was considering giving up but he had failed at nearly everything as District Leader, including getting renounced as a district and _gosh dang it_ if he was going to also fail at cleaning a plate…

Connor looked at Price, who appeared more worried by the second, and smiled to reassure him, “Unfortunately not, Elder.” He stabbed the stain with a wrinkled finger. “See?”

Elder Price shuffled in closer to peer over his shoulder. Connor could feel the huff of breath against his ear as Price chuckled. “I’m pretty sure that’s always been there. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Connor’s eyes stung with the thought of yet another failure – though for what exactly, he had no idea. Things just seemed to go wrong wherever he went. He rinsed off the plate and then dried his hands on a dishcloth.

“Elder McKinley?” The other Elder’s face was suddenly right in front of his, brows knitted in a frown, eyes searching his face. He was awfully close – too close, bright and earnest in a way that was captivating to Connor.

Connor belatedly realized that he had forgotten to respond. “If you say so, Elder. If you excuse me, I have to work on the budget.” Sidestepping Elder Price, he fled to his office.

 

* * *

 

Connor McKinley was six years old when his entire extended family went on a camping trip. It had taken months of planning and it was really far too hot to warrant camping, but the McKinleys were nothing if not determined.

Connor was snuggled up in the hammock against Aunt Alexandra – his absolute favourite of all his uncles and aunts – a distance away from the shrieking children playing tag and the murmuring adults who were drinking juice and chatting. Connor watched drowsily as his mom looked up, counting off children to make sure none of the 16 had somehow disappeared.

“Hmm, it’s getting dark enough to see the stars,” Aunt Alex muttered. When Connor went to turn over and look, she put a hand over his eyes and said “Wait, are you ready with your wish?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t tell me that neither of your parents told you about wishing on a star before…” His aunt sounded exasperated.

They hadn’t. “I pray to Heavenly Father every night,” he offered.

His aunt sighed. “Well, that’s not the quite same – close though. Here, the rhyme goes like this:

> “Star light, star bright,  
>  The first star I see tonight,  
>  I wish I may, I wish I might,  
>  Have the wish I wish tonight.”

He frowned. “Does the star tell it to Heavenly Father so he can make it come true?”

“Wishes are for everyone, not just people who believe in Heavenly Father.”

Connor fidgeted. “Do they make all wishes come true? What if the wish is bad?”

Connor felt his aunt’s laugh vibrate against him. “Stop worrying, sweetie. Stars are very smart – they won’t listen if the wish isn’t what the world needs, okay? And though they’ll try to make them come true, it doesn’t always happen. But it doesn’t hurt to wish anyway.”

Connor nodded. This all sounded very complicated. But it did sound pretty fun.

“Alright, are you ready with your wish?”

Connor thought for a moment, then nodded decisively. Aunt Alex lifted her hand from his eyes and Connor fixed his gaze on a tiny star a little apart from the other clusters of stars. I wish, he thought fiercely, that I’ll spend lots more time with Aunt Alex because she’s the best aunt ever.

“Got it?” Aunt Alex was looking down at him, smile soft and eyes sparkling.

“I made the perfect wish,” he declared.

As Connor grew up, his wishes changed with him. At seven, he wished ardently for a pair of pink tap shoes because he loved dance and he loved pink. At eight, he wished to make it onto the basketball team so his parents would smile. At nine, he wished to be as cool as his brother and as popular as his sister. But his wishes never seemed to come true, and by ten, he stopped looking for stars at night.

 

* * *

 

Connor stretched his arms above his head, wincing at the sound of his back popping. He stared at the neat figures in front of him. How was he supposed to run a mission with only half of the usual funding? He supposed that he should be grateful that the Mission President hadn’t taken away all of the funding but the last month had shown how hard it was to feed and keep 10 Mormon boys safe with that little money. He glanced at his watch, sighing as he realized that he had spent the entire afternoon in the office and he really did have to start dinner.

Straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin, he strode to kitchen. He was passing through the doorway, deep in thought, when he bumped into someone.

“Elder McKinley!”

Elder Price, again. Lovely.

“Ah, Elder Price, you’re just in time to help me start dinner! Great timing.” Connor stepped around Price to put some distance between them and started rummaging around the cupboards.

Price frowned as he looked him. “Elder, are you okay? You seem a bit off today.”

“I’m fine, Elder, thank you for your concern. Now,” Connor placed the potatoes into the other Elder’s hands, “peel these, please.”

Price didn’t move, continuing to stare at Connor, who busied himself with unpacking the other vegetables. “Elder McKinley – you’ve looked tired and unhappy since I talked to you this morning.”

Elder Price was just too much: too attractive, too earnest, too charming – this though, was also clearly applicable to the less pleasant traits, like confidence or pride. And at this moment, Elder Price was being far too stubborn.

“Elder Price. I’m fine. Please. Let’s not debate about this?”

“Elder McKinley, about earlier – did I...do something wrong?”

Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. He really did not need this right now.

“Elder Price, I appreciate the concern but I am fine and no, you haven’t. Now if you would-”

“No, please, I want to know if upset you because I know I can fix it-”

Connor turned to face the other Elder, frustration bubbling to the surface. “Not everything is about you, Elder Price,” he bit out.

Ignoring Price’s shocked face, he brushed past him and walked out of the house, taking in a full breath for what felt like the first time that day. The guilt hit him in a wave but he couldn’t bring himself to go back inside and apologize. He was just too tired. His eyes watered and he pushed back the urge to cry.

As much as Connor was attracted to the handsome Elder – _stop, turn it off_ – he didn’t so much need an attractive Mormon boy as much as he needed a friend.

 

* * *

 

Connor McKinley was nine years old when he met Steve Blade.

Connor had been walking with his mom, who was telling him about how Philip had been chosen to be the captain of his soccer team and Connor was quite tired of hearing about his older brother’s many athletic achievements when a baseball sailed over the park fence and rolled to his feet.

As Connor bent over to pick it up, he heard a voice yell, “Did you see that, Dad? I got it all the way over the fence! I got a home run!” and turned to see a boy about his age jump into his father’s arms. “Mom, did you see?”

The boy’s mother had laughed at his enthusiasm and congratulated him, before telling him to be more careful next time because he could have hit these nice people there. With that, the boy was jumping down and running over to Connor and his mom. He skidded to a stop before the two of them and Connor felt a rush of envy as strong as hatred for this boy who was good at sports, had teammates cheering for him, and had parents who actually loved him.

And then, the boy smiled a big gap-toothed grin and said, as Connor handed him the ball, “Do you want to play with us? The game’s over, but we always stay for a bit after,” and Connor felt a prickling of shame for thinking bad thoughts about someone who was actually so kind. He vowed to pray extra hard tonight and looked up at his mom. She was looking at him with something that looked a bit like surprise and nodded.

The two of them had run off together and the boy had said, “I’m Steve, by the way,” and said that he liked Connor’s name. They had played catch and Connor was terrible, but even as his face was flushing red, Steve had reassured him and told him he would teach him to get better.

Being Steve’s friend was an enchanting experience because Steve was everything Connor wished that he could be. Connor thought that if he maybe stayed close enough to Steve, some of Steve’s brightness would rub off onto him. Steve wasn’t religious, but he was kind and thoughtful and everything a good Mormon boy should be.

Steve also made Connor feel soft and warm inside. When Steve smiled at Connor or casted him a sidelong glance, golden lashes shadowing his eyes, Connor felt his hands shake and heart shiver. He did not exactly know what this meant, but when he dreamed of kissing Steve on a beach, like the one they played at during the summer, Connor knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Steve.

He asked his Bishop about this one day. He didn’t really know where to start, so he said, “What happens when you really like someone? Like you want to kiss them.”

His Bishop chuckled, as cheerful as he always was. “Well, if you’re lucky, perhaps she’ll like you back, you can marry, and live happily ever after. But you must remember, Connor, to keep these feelings inside until it is appropriate.” He gave Connor a knowing look. “Perhaps holding hands at this age. Kisses can come much later.”

Connor hadn’t quite heard past the first sentence – his mind had gotten snagged on one word. “She?”

His Bishop frowned. “Of course, ‘she.’ Who else would it be?” The Bishop bent down so he was eye-level with Connor. “Have you been having impure thoughts about…a boy?”

Connor tilted his head. He didn’t understand why his Bishop seemed so confused. He usually never was confused. “Yes? I mean, I dreamt of kissing Steve.” He bit his lip. “Is dreaming of kisses impure?”

The furrows between his Bishop’s eyes deepened, the corners of his mouth turned down. But what made Connor’s heart pound and his palms grow sticky with sweat was the way his Bishop’s eyes turned hard like he had slammed the door in Connor’s face. Connor opened his mouth to say something to make him open that door again but when he tried, only a whimper came out.

“Let’s go talk to your parents, young man.” The Bishop grabbed his wrist and marched him down the hall. Connor stumbled as he tried to keep up with the Bishop’s long strides. He reached up to brush aside the hair sticking to his face, and his hand came back wet with tears he hadn’t known that he had been crying.

Connor’s parents were displeased, to say the least. Connor spent many evenings huddled in his bed, trying to listen to his parents’ frantic conversation with various members of the Church congregation while his siblings played outside. At last, he was told his punishment: he had to change schools, cut off ties with Steve, and attend extra Church sessions to be reformed. He was unnatural, but they would fix him, they said. It was just for the best to leave Steve behind and Connor was granted one last chance to say goodbye.

Connor didn’t know what he thought. He didn’t think it was fair and he couldn’t imagine life without Steve, but he also knew his parents knew best and wanted the best for him. He just didn’t know how he could do without Steve and even how to tell Steve and, as expected, the conversation did not go well.

“Why do you have to go?” Steve whined.

Connor scuffed the dirt with his foot. “I just do,” he said.

“I thought we were going to be friends forever. Well, you can still come over and we can go to the park. Your parents will let you right?”

“I don’t know.” Connor refused to look up; he thought might cry if he did.

“Why are you being like this?” Steve kicked the ground angrily. “It’s like you don’t even care!”

“I have to do what my parents want, Steve. I don’t get to choose!”

Steve’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders and he was inches from Connor’s face, blazing with righteous anger. “You always have a choice! Why are you being so dumb about this?!”

Connor pushed Steve away from him, his heart hammering – he was too close, far too close. “These are my parents! I don’t have a choice!”

Then his brain, muddled by fear that Steve would sense his secret and seized by the kernel of envy for Steve’s simple life, made him say, “My parents know what’s best and so does Heavenly Father. You wouldn’t get it – you don’t _believe_ like we do.”

As the words skidded out, Connor knew he had to pull them back but he couldn’t and he watched as Steve’s face ricocheted between surprise and sadness, before settling on a harshness that was incongruous with his usual warm expression.

Steve gestured wildly, eyes burning with something far darker than Connor could have ever imagined. “You don’t even see! You say this is the way things are, but that’s not true! You say it like your parents’ word is the word of God-” Connor flinched but Steve carried on, “and you make it like God is everything but you’re just the worst kind person – no, the worst kind of Mormon – because you’re stupid and mean and you don’t actually _care_ about people.”

Steve shot Connor a look of disgust even as his lower lip quivered with barely suppressed tears and walked away with his head high, refusing to look back.

For the rest of elementary school, Connor floundered – friendless and bitter and so, so tired. When his mind wandered, he heard Steve telling him that he was the worst kind Mormon. And maybe Steve was right.

Grasping at what was left of his life, Connor decided that he was going to devote himself to the Church and be a good Mormon because his parents wanted it and _dang it_ – Steve had no any right to tell him that he was a bad Mormon at all.

 

* * *

 

Connor was picking at the shrivelled grass when he heard footsteps behind him. He looked over his shoulder and watched as Elder Thomas picked his way down the hill towards him.

“Poptarts, what are you doing here?”

Poptarts shrugged, standing there awkwardly with his hand in his pocket. “I brought you this,” he said, passing a foil packet to him.

Connor frowned. “A Pop-Tart?”

Elder Thomas shrugged again. “Elder Price said you weren’t feeling well and, I mean, Pop-Tarts always make me feel a bit better.”

Connor smiled at the sweet, albeit simple, gesture. “Thank you, Elder. Here, why don’t we split it?” Several things in his mind clicked in succession and his eyes widened as he realized, “I forgot to make dinner!” He scrambled to get up, but Poptarts put a hand on shoulder.

“It’s okay, Elder Price made dinner. We ate already. He said you, um, probably needed some time to yourself or something? I think he said he’d come to find you later.” Patting Connor’s shoulder one more time before he left, he said, “Um, so just take all the time you need. We’ll be okay.”

A while later, Connor heard someone approach. Elder Price plopped down beside him, pushing a plate into Connor’s hands. “Here’s dinner. I wanted to come out earlier but Church and Neeley got into a fight about whose turn it was to do the dishes and we didn’t want to have to bother you for the roster, so I had to referee the rock-paper-scissors match.”

Connor smiled. “Thank you,” he said as he dug into the meal, surprised at how hungry he was.

Minutes later, he was scraping the fork against the empty plate, wondering what to say. He looked sideways at Price, who was staring at a distant spot in the horizon with intense concentration.

Connor leaned over to put down the plate, accidentally brushing against Price’s leg. Price startled, hitting the fork and making it clatter against the plate.

“Sorry,” Price muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, my fault, sorry.” Price hadn’t used to be this jumpy, but Connor supposed that he didn’t know him that well. “I actually should be apologizing for a few other things. Like forgetting dinner. I don’t know what happened.” Connor looked at his feet. “And for snapping at you. And for not being myself today. That’s a lot. Sorry.”

Price waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It happens to the best of us.” Before Connor could fully process that Price might be complimenting him, he went on, “But I do want to say that. Um.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I feel bad for pushing you to talk. But if you do want to talk about anything, you can talk to me.” He frowned. “Or Elder Poptarts I guess? You’re probably much closer to him.”

Connor was touched by this Elder Price, who was so different than when he arrived. It had felt like a show before, but now, he seemed to genuinely care. “Thank you for the offer, Elder, but it’s nothing I can’t manage.”

Price shot him a skeptical look but didn’t push further. Connor had a feeling that this would come up again – for all that mellowing that Price had gone through in the past month, his stubbornness was the same as ever.

They sat in silence, watching the sunset as Connor begun to wonder if he shouldn’t put his time to better use and work on a letter grovelling to the Mission President.

“I mean, I don’t even know your name?”

Connor blinked. “Sorry?”

“We were just talking about not knowing each other. I don’t even know your name.”

Connor smiled slightly. Of all the things Price fixated on during the conversation… “Uh, well, it’s Connor.”

Price smiled. “Nice to meet you, Connor. I’m Kevin.”

 

* * *

 

Elders Schrader and Zelder were beginning to clean up breakfast when Price stumbled in, rubbing his eyes. Connor raised an eyebrow. “You’re up late, Elder Price,” he said, a hint of a reprimand in his voice.

Price gave a grunt of acknowledgement, stumbling over to the little coffee press on the counter and mechanically making himself a cup. Michaels passed him a plate of leftover breakfast while Connor put cutlery down next to the plate.

“Thank you,” Price said, taking a long drink of his coffee.

Neeley watched Price with fascination. “Can I try some?”

Price nudged the mug over to him, munching on a piece of toast as he watched Neeley take a tentative sip.

“It’s not actually that bad with sugar,” Neeley said, looking at the mug with surprise.

“You had it without sugar? That’s gross.” Kevin caught the ear of the mug and pulled it back to him. “Make your own. I need this.”

“You didn’t sleep well, Elder?” Church asked.

Kevin took another gulp. “Arnold was snoring extra loudly last night. Kept me up for two hours.”

Thomas piped up from the corner of the table where he was writing in his notebook. “You should join Elder McKinley in the living room if you can’t sleep. He wakes up at least a few times a night.”

Connor shot Thomas a glare but he had already turned back to his notebook. Kevin, catching the tail end of the look, pushed the mug across the table to Connor. “Coffee?”

Connor shook his head. He wasn’t sure where he stood on this new rule-breaking. “No thank you, Elder.” He gave the leftover bread crusts on Kevin’s plate a pointed look. “Stop wasting food.”

Kevin grimaced, picking up a crust to nibble. “Hell dreams?” At Connor’s nod, he frowned and said, “I thought you weren’t turning it off anymore.”

“Turns out it’s a lot easier to say it in the heat of the moment than it is to actually follow through,” Connor muttered.

Zelder, in the midst of rinsing a plate, asked, “Why?”

“I mean, we are still Latter-day Saints, right? And the Church, not to mention my parents…” Connor shook his head, “Never mind.”

Zelder shrugged and returned to the dishes but Connor caught Price eying him speculatively. Price had been surprisingly scarce over the past few days since he had offered to talk but Connor knew it wouldn’t last. Knowing he should make a quick exit or risk being interrogated, he excused himself from the table and went to hide in his office.

Connor heard a knock on the door almost as soon as he had sat down. “Come in,” he called. The door opened to reveal Elder Price, who was still nibbling on a crust. Connor sighed. Kevin Price just never seemed to give up. “What can I help you with, Elder Price?”

“Kevin.”

Connor rolled his eyes inwardly. “What can I help you with, Kevin?”

“Do you think we still need to follow LDS rules?” Kevin ambled in, shutting the door behind him.

Connor leaned back. “Well yes, I guess I do.”

“We’ve kind of left the Church though, right? It’s been more than a month since that whole thing.” Kevin finished the crust and brushed the crumbs from his shirt. “We don’t have to follow their rules.”

Connor didn’t quite understand how Price did this. He was always so decisive that even shifting ideologies didn’t seem to faze him one bit.

“I don’t think you understand, Elder Price.” Kevin opened his mouth but Connor held up a hand to forestall him. “If we really leave the Church, what do we do? We have no funding. Many of our parents won’t support us. We might not have anywhere to go home to. Did you know that I already got a call from Elder Michaels’ parents, who are friends with the Mission President, telling me to pass on the message that they’re considering disowning him? Elder Davis cried yesterday because he was scared he would have no home to return to because we ‘left the Church.’” Connor shook his head. “It’s not that simple. For some, the Church and family are the same thing. None of us have known a life outside of the Church. Not everyone can adapt to the lack of rules as quickly as you and Arnold have.”

Kevin sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. “I didn’t realize,” he said numbly.

Connor ran a hand over his face. This wasn’t fair to Kevin and it wasn’t his burden to bear. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have told you that. Pretend this conversation never happened, okay?”

Price frowned. “But I want to help!”

“Kevin, I understand that you want to help, but it’s not your job to worry about these things. I’ll handle it.”

Price sighed. “It’s at least partially my fault this happened. Let me help fix it?” He looked up with imploring eyes and Connor knew he wasn’t going to be able to say no.

Price took his silence as affirmation, standing up and beginning to pace. “Well, what we need then is to get the Mission President to accept us as a district again.” He looked at Connor.

Connor looked back him, eyebrow raised.

Kevin fiddled with his tie. “Yes, well I’m sure you thought of that.” Kevin spun on his heel, walking away from Connor as he gestured widely. “Maybe we can persuade him and explain that the villagers simply – like a garbled translation – picked up only the general themes of Arnold’s teachings. And they infused them with their own life experiences and we allowed this because this still helped them understand the virtues of Mormonism and allowed them to connect to our teachings in a way they hadn’t been able to before. Maybe we hadn’t had a chance to discuss the verse they performed that day and it then happened to be…less appropriate. Which we will immediately rectify. And ensure that further interpretations weigh more heavily on the Mormon side and less on the interpretation side.”

That wasn’t an entirely bad explanation, Connor had to admit. Particularly when it was delivered by a very impassioned and earnest Kevin Price who was so alight with righteousness that he almost seemed to glow.

“So, what do you think?” Price came to perch on the edge of Connor’s desk.

Connor looked up at him with a slight smile. “I think that we have a chance. You’re very persuasive.”

Price grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks! I can help you and Arnold practice what you’re going to say. And interrogate you guys so you’re ready for the Mission President’s questions.”

“Wait,” Connor frowned, “You think Arnold and I should go? I thought that you and Elder Cunningham should be the ones to speak to the Mission President.”

“Connor, you’re our district leader.” Connor blinked. Were they really on first name basis now? Price continued, “Of course you should be the one to go. And Arnold, well, he’ll take a bit more training but I think he can do it.”

Connor fiddled with a pen as he stared at the worn desk. “I really think it would be better if you went. I’m not very persuasive. Or charismatic or anything.”

Price put a hand on the desk and leaned forward, prompting Connor to look up at him. “I don’t think that’s true.” Kevin’s eyes held a certainty that Connor had rarely seen directed at him. “I believe in you.”

“Um.” It was hard to process those words, let alone reply, with Price looking at him so intently. Connor felt a blush start to creep up his neck.

“You’ll do it, right?” Kevin asked, his brow knitted.

Connor shrugged, then nodded.

Kevin didn’t seem to notice Connor’s reluctance. “This will work, I know it.”

Connor sighed. “I wouldn’t so optimistic.”

Kevin frowned. “Why not? You don’t think it’ll work? The villagers didn’t mean anything bad by it. And the rest of the Elders shouldn’t be punished by Arnold’s honest mistakes. I’m sure the Mission President will see that and be fair to us.”

Kevin’s jaw was set and his eyes held a sense of complete conviction. Connor suddenly felt much older than Kevin. “Well, people aren’t usually fair and neither is life.”

Kevin blinked. “You don’t think so?”

“Do you?”

Kevin hesitated, eyes growing distant as he thought. “Well, yes, mostly – I think. I mean, life isn’t always fair, but it mostly works out I guess. And people,” he bit his lip as he shifted, “I guess they aren’t always as kind or good as we sometimes expect them to be.”

Price looked so lost that Connor jumped to reassure him. “I’m sure I’m just worrying for no reason. Why don’t you get Arnold and we can start rehearsing what we should say? If I ask for a meeting now, the Mission President can probably meet us in two weeks.”

Kevin didn’t look entirely reassured but as he got up, his face took on a familiar look of determination and Connor knew he’d be alright.

 

* * *

 

Connor McKinley was 14 years old when he realized exactly how cruel people could be.

Everyone at school knew about his big secret. Of course they did – most of his high school was LDS and Sundays were the best time for gossip. This was besides the not-so-inconsequential fact that his Bishop had brought him up to the front during one Sunday and asked everyone, after a tearful recount of Connor’s ‘situation,’ to _pray_ for him.

So all the LDS kids stayed away from him, as if his gay thoughts might be contagious, and all the non-LDS kids wanted nothing to do with the “weird Mormon kid.” Connor was, simply, alone.

Which was fine.

But it wasn’t.

Connor would watch as everyone in the room scrambled to pair with someone so they didn’t have to spend time with him on project. The hands clutching his Book would shake as kids headed out for lunch laughing about something inane. And sometimes, he would feel the sheer hollowness in chest as he thought about how he had no one and how he had once had Steve.

His only solace was tap-dancing, which was always held over his head as something that his parents could easily take away. He didn’t bother trying to make friends there because his parents would never let friendships outside of the Church happen.

High school felt like bobbing in an ocean: alone, lost, and aimless. He allowed the Church to be his compass, which his parents seemed to like, but Connor was starting to yearn for something else. He searched for unhindered, real joy – like the kind that he had when he was friends with Steve – but he never seemed to be able to find it.

 

* * *

 

Connor hopped off the bus, steadying Arnold, who stumbled in the excitement of seeing Kevin waiting for them. “Best friend!”

“How did the meeting go?” Kevin asked as Arnold barrelled into him for a hug.

“It worked! He agreed to give us back funding and to let us keep going on our Missions. We just have to be more careful in representing the word of Christ.”

Kevin gave Connor a mischievous look. “What did I say?”

Connor shoved his hands into his pockets with a shrug. “Fine, I guess you were right,” he said, the grumble giving way to a bright grin.

“You guys should go in and tell the Elders the good news.” Arnold’s arms were still locked around Kevin’s waist and Kevin was starting to look a bit out of breath.

“But I haven’t even said the best part yet! He said we’re allowed to be a bit creative so we can connect with the villagers and we can make a book. It won’t be ‘real book’, he said, but it can be like a storybook based on Mormon values. Doesn’t that sound so cool?”

“That does sound pretty neat.” Kevin patted Arnold’s head. “You have to let me go, buddy. I can barely breathe.” Kevin sagged in relief as Arnold unwrapped his arms from Kevin’s midsection. “Let’s head in. The Elders will want to hear the good news.”

“Yeah, let’s go tell them,” Arnold said, grabbing Kevin’s hand then Connor’s. “They’re gonna be so excited!”

Arnold dragged the two of them into the living room. “Is everyone here? Guys, we have such good news to tell you!”

Arnold looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin with the excitement. “Tell them, Connor,” he urged.

“Well, Elder Cunningham and I went to speak with the Mission President today and we do have good news. The Mission President has reinstated us as a District and given us full funding to continue our missions!”

“Great job, Elder McKinley!” Poptarts called, giving him a thumbs up. The other Elders chattered excitedly, some coming over to clap Connor and Arnold on the back.

“Wait, wait, there’s more good news!” Arnold said breathlessly. “He also said we could make some of the stuff I told them into a book – like a storybook – to share with the Ugandans.”

“That sounds really neat!” Elder Schrader said as the Elders nodded in agreement, murmuring amongst themselves.

“I also want to acknowledge Elder Price, who has been helping Elder Cunningham and I prepare for the meeting over the last two weeks and coached us through what to say. We couldn’t have done it without him.” Price jumped as Church clapped him across the back, waving off Church’s apologies for startling him.

“But what about the changes we’ve made over the last bit?” Elder Neeley asked. “We’ve gotten a lot looser with the rules or even changed some of them.”

The Elders quieted, turning to Connor. They suddenly seemed unsure about whether being reinstated as a district was a good thing.

“I think,” Connor said slowly, “that if we’ve learned something from our experience with the Ugandans, it is that strictly following each and every rule might actually hold us back. For some of us, the rules are comforting. For others, they are restricting. I think that each of us can decide how much we would like to – or are able to – stray from the rules. As long as bending the rules doesn’t keep us from having a worthwhile mission, I think we can afford to loosen them a bit.”

The Elders nodded at this and seemed comforted by the words. Connor met Kevin’s eyes, feeling his heart warm as Kevin nodded and smiled at him from across the room.

 

* * *

 

“C-Connor?” Poptarts still stumbled over his name, unused to calling him anything but Elder McKinley. “Michaels and I are going to the market. Was there anything you wanted to add to the grocery list?”

Connor tapped a pen against his lips. “I think we’re running low on rice. Is that on the list?” He shaded his eyes against the sun as Poptarts scanned the page.

“Not yet.” Connor handed him his pen, scanning the yard as he waited for Poptarts. He had taken to working outside, which meant much more sunscreen for him, but it did let him keep an eye on everyone and enjoy the occasional break. Elders Zelder and Davis were teaching lessons at a little makeshift classroom they had finished a few days ago. Schrader was discussing building plans for the new church with Mafala, scribbling in a little notebook as they spoke.

“Thanks. We’ll see you in a bit then.” Poptarts gave him a quick smile and ducked inside to fetch Michaels.

Connor looked over at his to-do list. The past two months after they had been reinstated as a district had been ridiculously busy as the Elders planned how to continue proselytizing while also helping the Kitguli villagers in whatever ways they could. Connor flipped to one of his folders, pulling out the lesson plans for the kids that he and Price had worked on last week. He wanted to talk them over with one of the Ugandans to make sure they would work. He was rather apprehensive about teaching kids (the Mission Training Centre definitely hadn’t taught them how to educate children in math and English) but they wanted to try it anyway.

“Sister Hatimbi, could I get your opinion this please?” Connor called, waving a sheet of paper over his head.

Nabulungi made her way over, stopping to stand in front of him with her hands on her hips. “You could call me Naba,” she said. “You call Elder Cunningham Arnold.”

“Well, he did insist,” – quite vehemently, actually. “If you like, you can call me Connor?” he ventured.

“Good,” she said, apparently satisfied. “You white boys try too hard,” she sighed as she sat down beside him. “But I guess it’s cute.”

Connor blinked, “What do you mean?”

She tapped her lip with her finger for a moment before she spoke, “Take Elder Price for example. When he got here, he was so eager. So pushy,” she said, her mouth in moue of distaste. “He was funny then. Now, he’s more...calm. He’s nicer.”

Connor smiled softly. “That he is.” He paused, frowning. “But the rest of us aren’t like that...are we?”

Naba looked at him as if he was dense. “Yes, you are.”

Connor winced. “Well, did you say anything to Elder Price? If you did, perhaps the rest of us can heed the advice as well.”

She stared at him. “You are all a different kind of dumb,” she informed him, and he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at that. “If it helps, I told Kevin that no one can hear others over the sound of their own voice. And I told him,” she said smugly, “to be less of a dick.” She tilted her head, pensive. “He seemed very annoyed at that.”

Connor, imagining the pout on Kevin’s face and his angry stalk, couldn’t help but laugh.

 

* * *

 

Connor was done teaching the kids for the day and he was exhausted. He was more than ready to head back to the Mission House, but Taifa, one of his students, had a ridiculously strong grip on his hair and she was not at all willing to let go.

“Please?” Connor looked up at her, eyes pleading. When he’d met Taifa his first week at Kitguli, he had though she was adorable. A year later, he wasn’t so sure. The other kids had long since left to go home, but Taifa just would not move from her spot on the bench nor let go of his hair and so Connor was stuck kneeling in front of her, wondering what he had done to deserve this.

“Pretty,” she said somberly.

Connor shut his eyes in exasperation. “Thank you. But if you could let go,” he mimed opening his hand, “that would be wonderful.”

She stared at him blankly.

He heard the crunch of footsteps approaching him and attempted to turn to look at who it was, but her hold was much too tight. He waved his hand in the vague direction of the sound.

“Elder McKinley? Why are you just sitting there like…oh.” Elder Cunningham sat down on the bench next to Taifa. “She likes you! Niagara Falls says she’s one of the really shy ones.”

Connor sighed. “That’s wonderful, but I’d really like my hair back.” He heard a stifled laugh and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Kevin shaking with laughter. “Kevin, maybe if you could help?” he said pointedly.

Kevin knelt down beside Connor. “Taifa, do you think you could let go of Connor’s hair? He really wants it back.”

“I tried that, I don’t think she understands-”

“No,” Taifa said decisively. “I like hair. Pretty.”

“Actually, Connor, I think she does understand. She just doesn’t want to.” Kevin turned back to Taifa. “Yes, I think Connor’s hair is pretty too. But-” Kevin ducked out of the way as Taifa’s other hand came up to swipe at Kevin’s hair. “Wow, she really likes hair and doesn’t like listening.”

Arnold gave them both an exasperated look and then leaned over and ticked Taifa. She squealed with laughter, reflexively releasing Connor’s hair amidst her giggles. Connor leaned back with a sigh, rubbing at the sore spot on his scalp.

Arnold picked her up, holding his head out of the way as he called across the yard, “Kalimba, your daughter really likes hair.” Connor could hear her answering shout as she approached.

“So, how was class?” Kevin asked, sitting so he could lean his back against the bench.

“It went pretty well. They’re very smart – they picked up on things so quickly. And, they started a pencil throwing contest while I was working with one of the kids who was struggling. I think I lost some pencils.” Connor swivelled so that he could sit next to Kevin, looking out at Kalimba as she took her daughter from Arnold’s arms. She raised a hand in a wave and they waved back.

“What was today? Math?”

Connor nodded. “We worked on addition today. Poptarts is doing English tomorrow.” He watched as Naba ran up to Arnold and hugged him. The two conversed and Arnold pointed in their direction. Naba’s face lit up and she ran over to them.

“You two look so cute sitting here.” Before Connor could even process what she was implying, she went on. “Connor, Gotswana wanted me to thank you for helping at the clinic the other day. He said you were very helpful.”

Connor grimaced, remembering the retching patient and the vomit on the floor. “I’m glad he thought so – I’ll be there next week.”

She beamed at him. “I’ll leave you two alone then.” She leaned over to whisper something in Kevin’s ear, to which he responded by shoving at her playfully and blushing slightly. Connor watched happily as she ran back over to Arnold, taking his hand and heading towards the Mission House.

“What did she say?” Connor asked, interest piqued because of Kevin’s unusual reaction.

Kevin laughed, looking down at the hands playing with his tie. “Nothing much, she was just joking around. Anyways, I’m glad the lessons are going well. I don’t know how you work with kids all day. They tire me out.” He looked up at Connor, smiling, and Connor couldn’t help but smile back even as he wondered why Kevin had changed the topic.

“Here’s the roster by the way,” Kevin said, passing Connor a clipboard. “We have a few baptisms scheduled so I put Davis and Church on that and I can take a double shift of book-writing with Arnold. He still wants to call it the Book of Arnold. Which I think is really only fair, since he came up with the whole thing.”

Connor rifled through the pages – Kevin had been very thorough. As he double-checked the shifts, making little notes on the way, he realized he had to tell Kevin about something that had been on his mind for a while and he debated about how to phrase it properly.

“You know, I never apologized.” Well, that wasn’t eloquent by any means, but it was a start.

“Hmm?” Kevin looked up from where he was drawing Mickey Mouse heads in the sand.

Connor shifted on his seat. “I dropped you for Arnold as soon as I heard that he had baptisms. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Kevin shrugged. “Well, I’d been a dick,” he said mildly.

Connor pursed his lips. “Being a d-” he made a face, “Being annoying or not, it was my job to care about all of you, and I failed.”

“Sounds like a pretty bad job requirement to me.”

Connor made a frustrated sound. “Kevin, really. I shouldn’t have done that and for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

Kevin sighed and shook his head. “Apology accepted – if it makes you feel better. I’d apologize for my behaviour but then I’d have to go back and do the same to everyone I’d met in the past 19 years. But you really don’t have to apologize. It’s pretty normal to want to stay away from a person who’s being less than pleasant.”

“But still.”

Kevin saw the set of Connor’s jaw and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He continued with his Mickey drawing spree, “Well, I guess if you really want to apologize…Laundry’s my chore this week but I don’t really want to do it…”

Connor laughed and bumped him. And then he noticed – something about Kevin’s face was different. Maybe it was that his smile was a little crooked, his eyes were shining with mischievousness, or that there was a spot of stubble at the junction of his neck and jaw that he must have missed when shaving that morning.

He had been beautiful before, but now he was beautiful _and_ honest and this realization stopped the breath in Connor’s throat.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because Connor could not possibly think properly around Kevin, he said the first thing he thought of: the untactful truth. “You look different than...before. Than when we met.”

Kevin laughed. “Nabulungi said the same thing, but Arnold said I look the same.” He looked out to where the sun was dipping below the horizon. “Naba said that Arnold doesn’t pay enough attention.” He looked at Connor, a hint of a smirk in the curl of his lip. “She says it’s because I don’t give a shit anymore. Well, at least not about the things that don’t matter.” He shrugged. “I think I look the same.”

Connor mulled over this for a moment, thinking wryly that Nabulungi was probably far wiser and a far better friend than any of them deserved.

His thoughts then turned to his own inability to crush his…inconvenient thoughts. No matter how he tried to stay away from Kevin, he drew towards him again and again, the yearning in his chest too strong for rational thought.

He glanced sideways at Kevin, who was now squinting against the setting sun to wave at an approaching Elder Church.

Kevin made Connor feel things that he had buried long ago, when he was still friends with Steve. Only, it was a hundred times worse because Kevin was both realer and more captivating than Steve Blade. Kevin was unapologetically who he was and completely endearing for his earnestness and determination, his brilliance shining past the rougher edges of his personality. Kevin reminded Connor of light in its purest form – perhaps like starlight – and Connor so wanted to curl up in the warmth and brightness that Kevin gave off.

“Elder McKinley, are you coming?” Elder Church asked. “Poptarts cooked today and we should make sure the Mission House hasn’t burnt down.”

Connor got up to walk with them, letting them talk while he took deep breaths in an attempt to turn his attraction off. But, as soon as he looked at Price, whose eyes sparkled when they looked at him, Connor felt his want for Kevin Price return and he closed his eyes in tired shame.

 

* * *

 

Connor turned onto his back with a huff. He couldn’t sleep. This was not a recent development. The exact reason for his sleeplessness, however, was at least partially new. Or the realization of the sheer depth of his feelings were, anyway.

“What’s wrong?” Poptarts’ voice floated through the dark.

“Did I keep you awake, Poptarts? I’m sorry, I can just go sit outside and-”

“Elder McKinley, it’s okay.” Poptarts hesitated. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. But I’m here to listen if you do.”

Connor ran a tired hand over his face. “I do. Want to talk about it. If you’re okay with it. I mean- I just- I don’t know how to say this.”

“It’s okay.”

“But it’s not okay!” Connor burst out. What was he doing?

“Okay,” Connor heard Poptarts shifting in his bed. “What’s not okay?”

“I’ve been having thoughts.” Connor closed his eyes as the guilt welled up inside him.

“Oh. Bad thoughts?”

“Yeah. Gay thoughts.”

“Oh. Well.” He heard the sheets rustling again and there was a long pause. “What if…what if gay thoughts weren’t bad?”

“Poptarts, what do you mean? Of course they’re bad!”

He heard a sigh from the other bed. “The other day, I was talking to Kimbe. And you know how her husband was shot a little while ago? And I told her how we always just turn it off and showed her how. But she just laughed and told me that turning it off just lets the feelings sit around. Nothing ever gets done about them.”

“But I can’t just acknowledge them!” Connor rubbed his hands against his face. “I was doing so well before.” Well, before Kevin Price decided to be his friend. “Being gay is against the Church’s will!”

Poptarts sighed again. “We’re changing a lot of our thoughts about the Church, aren’t we? The point is, she started telling me about her husband – bad things like how he’d swear ever other sentence and good things about how he walked to the market 2 hours away to get her roses for her birthday. And I told her about my sister and we just listened to each other. And I think it actually made me feel better. I know the Church always just tells us to turn it off and forget about it, but does that even help?”

Connor didn’t have an answer. He just stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know either,” Poptarts said quietly. “But I just think…if it’s hurting you to try to not be gay, then maybe something is wrong with that. Just…maybe think about it.”

Connor turned onto his side, bringing his knees up to his chest. “Okay,” he whispered to himself, feeling unmoored and lost as the ideals he had grown up with crashed against his swiftly changing perspective.

 

* * *

 

Connor lied. Connor was a bad Mormon in so many ways, but his biggest sin was how much he lied. To others. To himself. And as he piled half-truths and omission of facts and outright lies upon one another, each layer tasted more bitter than the last and each one tightened the vise around his ribcage.

Regardless, he still lied and told himself that he was okay with not getting what he wanted, because when did he ever?

But if he was going to be truthful, he was angry at his parents for stuffing him into a box in which he’d clearly never fit and at his siblings for being so perfect and amazing that he looked even more lost amongst them. He was angry at the Church for asking so much and giving so little. He was angry at Steve for not understanding that it wasn’t Connor’s fault (even if it was, at least a bit). He was angry at everyone at high school who saw vulnerabilities shadowing his every step and saw the chance to push him down even more.

And he was _furious_ at Kevin Price who decided to be his friend instead of staying at arms length where Connor could be safer and things could be easier and Connor didn’t have to feel the pain of his secrets hammering against his chest as he returned time after time to bask in the brilliance of Kevin’s friendship.

But he also knew that none of these people were to blame because, above all, he was angry at himself for not being able to straighten his spine and do what he wanted instead of bending to others. And this, more than any of the poisonous hatred that tasted liked bile in the back of his throat, was why he lied.

He lied, because the truth was not bright or good – it was a festering mass of darkness and bitter, bitter anger that hurt to touch.

He lied, because the truth was so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts would be lovely and constructive criticism is always welcomed. This is as much of me wanting to write about these characters as it is an exercise in improving at writing :)
> 
> Also, unbetaed. Sorry...I probably missed typos somewhere...


	2. Chapter 2

Connor was sitting on the ground near the makeshift soccer field, forgotten report on his lap, when Mafala came up to him.

“Elder McKinley,” he said, taking a seat beside Connor.

Connor looked away from the field, where Kevin was dribbling the ball around Neeley and then passing to a waving Arnold. “Elder Hatimbi! What can I help you with?”

Mafala scrutinized him for a long moment. Connor shifted, uncomfortable under the man’s pensive gaze.

“How are you feeling about going home?” Mafala asked.

Connor frowned. “Well, Elder Thomas and I still have two months before we leave.”

Mafala stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. “But I can tell that you worry about it.”

Mafala seemed to have an uncanny ability to read minds. Perhaps that was what made him such a good leader. “I do worry about it.” Connor admitted. “I’m not sure how I’ll fit in back home. And I’ll miss everyone here.” Connor stared out at the field. Neeley was now teaching Naba and one of the kids how to fake a pass.

Mafala didn’t speak for a long moment. When he did, his words were gentle and measured. “I will keep the boys safe when you go.”

“I know. I-”

Mafala held up a hand. “I’m not finished. As I said, I will keep the boys safe. But I will not be able watch over you when you go.”

Connor began to protest but quieted when Mafala shook his head. “Even those who watch over others need to be taken care of.” He paused, watching Connor with a steady gaze. “What are you afraid of, Elder McKinley?”

Connor was tempted to get up and walk away – he did not want to think about his fears, thank you – but he trusted Mafala and had a feeling that Mafala was seeing something that he was not. Talking to Mafala was often quite enlightening. “I think,” Connor said slowly, “I used to be afraid of disappointing people – not living up to their expectations. Because I would lose those people if I failed.”

Mafala inclined his head. “That is scary.”

Connor hesitated. “I knew someone who went through that.”

“Who was that?”

Connor sighed. “My aunt. She left the Church and her family – her whole family – turned away from her. My cousins and I, we were told never to talk to Aunt Alex again. They said she wasn’t family anymore.” Mafala looked at him somberly. “A few years later, I heard my other aunts and uncles gossiping though, and they said she was doing well.” Connor’s mouth twisted into a wry grin. “They were disappointed.”

Mafala snorted with laughter.

“To answer your question though,” Connor said and Mafala quieted, “I don’t know what I’m scared of now. Not that. If anything, I’m more scared of disappointing myself when I go home. Because I think I’ve been doing that my whole life.

Mafala nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “I used to worry about you a lot, Elder McKinley,” he mused. “And I thought about how you will need to take care of yourself when you go because I will not be able to watch over you.” Mafala turned to gaze out at the field. “I am not the only one who worried. My daughter saw it too: she said that you looked down on yourself.”

Connor wasn’t sure what to say in reply to that. He felt transparent and vulnerable knowing that Mafala and Naba saw his insecurities.

Mafala continued, “But you have changed in the last year. I see that you are less afraid, surer of yourself. You are happier too.” Mafala smiled at him. “You do know, you are the same person here as you will be in America.”

Connor looked down, eyes distant. “I know.” He looked up, smiling slightly as he met Mafala’s patient gaze. “And I understand what you’re saying.”

Mafala patted his shoulder. “Then, I think that you will be safe when you go.” He stood up to leave.

Connor felt his chest warm with gratitude for this man, who cared deeply about each person in the village – including the Elders – as if they were his family. “Mafala? Thank you.”

Mafala turned back to smile. “Connor, it has been my pleasure to see you grow.”

Connor turned back to look at the field, where the kids were laughing as climbed all over Neeley and Kevin while others were skipped rope with Schrader and Davis, and felt the worry of going home ebb a little bit with those words.

 

* * *

 

“Draw four,” Connor said smugly.

Kevin was staring at him with his mouth open, completely aghast, as he gripped his last Uno card. “That’s just…inhumane!”

“That’s not what you said last game.” Connor tapped the table. Kevin was so adorable when he was mad. “You know what payback is.”

“You don’t even swear,” Kevin muttered, picking up the cards.

Zelder walked by, carrying a box as he said, “Sorry, was that the sound of Kevin Price losing? Like he’s going to lose at Pictionary tonight because he draws like a five-year-old?”

Kevin pouted. “The game’s not over yet! And I do not draw that badly – you’re going to have to watch your back tonight, Zelder.” He played his card and said, “Naba, it’s your turn.”

Naba played her card. “Elder Price is sensitive, Elder Zelder. You have to be careful with his feelings,” she called. His answering laugh echoed down the hall.

“Nobody’s nice to me. Except Arnold. Your turn, buddy.”

Arnold stared as his cards, scrunching up his face. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you, buddy!” He tossed his card on to the table as he made a lightsaber sound. “Reverse!”

Kevin smirked at Connor, who rolled his eyes in response. Arnold was far too nice to Kevin. It made up for everyone else’s teasing though, Connor supposed.

“Draw four!” Naba cackled as Kevin’s face fell. “You’re too easy, Kevin Price.”

“That’s not nice, N-Naba!” Arnold protested.

“You don’t win Uno by being nice. But, I may be a little bit nicer to you this round for getting my name right.”

“I think he has a 70% accuracy rate now,” Kevin said to Connor as he morosely picked up his cards. “I’m excited for the day it gets to 100%.” He put a card on the table. “Ha! Another draw four, Connor, so house rules say you draw eight!”

Connor gave Kevin a reprimanding look and Kevin stuck his tongue out in reply.

“Wait,” Kevin said, putting a hand on Connor’s arm. “Who was the one who decided we should have house rules? Oh right, it was Connor Patrick McKinley. How does it feel, Mr. McKinley?” Kevin pretended to hold a microphone to Connor’s face.

Connor sighed, picking up the cards. “You’re lucky I’m so kind, or else you’d be on laundry duty for the next two weeks. Actually,” he tapped his chin with his cards, “I haven’t made up the roster yet, so I guess there’s still a chance…”

Kevin gasped dramatically. “Oh Connor, you wouldn’t! You’re such a fair and wonderful District Leader – you would never do that to me, right?” He looked at Connor with puppy-dog eyes and a quivering lower lip.

Connor felt his face heat up, even though he knew Kevin was just kidding around. He shoved Kevin playfully, and laughing, Kevin pushed him back.

Arnold was staring at the two of them, chin propped on his hand. “You guys are so, just,” Arnold waved his hands around in an expressive but completely nonsensical gesture. “Like, Kevin, when are you gonna finally get the guts to, you know, because-OW!” Arnold hugged his shin to his chest. “That hurt!”

“Good,” Naba said, completely unperturbed. She crossed her legs demurely, looking like the picture of innocence.

Connor looked at Kevin in bewilderment. “Did you kick me?”

Kevin looked down, a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks. “I missed,” he muttered.

“Buddy, you tried to kick me too? That’s just rude,” Arnold huffed, rubbing his shin.

“You deserve it because you were rude first.” Naba propped her elbows on the table as she gave Arnold a look of exasperation. In response, he wiggled his eyebrows.

They stared at each other for a few moments more before Arnold sighed and said, “Oh, fine. I can be patient. Maybe.”

Connor looked between them. “I think I missed that,” he said faintly.

Kevin’s blush had finally faded and he now looked amused. “They do this all the time. It’s tiring to watch.”

“Wait, so why did you guys kick Arnold? I don’t understand.”

“Arnold needs to learn some manners,” Naba said primly. “I promise I will make him much better behaved for you, Connor.”

“Um?” Connor leaned his head on his hand. He looked at Kevin but Kevin was staring at his cards, blush returning. He then looked toward Arnold, who mimed zipping up his mouth then grinned at Connor. “I still don’t understand?”

“Good,” Naba said. She looked up at the Elders entering the kitchen. “Chris and James, would you like to be on my team for Pictionary tonight? I want to win this time because Kevin is a sore loser and I would like to see him annoyed.”

 

* * *

 

Connor was lying on his bed staring at the ceiling when Poptarts came in and collapsed facedown on his bed with a sigh. “The kids are so tiring.”

“I thought about what you told me.”

Poptarts turned his head to rest his cheek against the bed so he could look at Connor. “What?”

“Remember how you told me about you and Kimbe talked? About your feelings?”

Poptarts squinted as he thought. “Wasn’t that, like, a year ago?”

Connor turned so that he could look at Poptarts. “Nine months, I think.”

Poptarts blinked. “Wow, uh, so you’ve really thought about it.” He flipped onto his back. “I think this might be the first time anyone took something I said this seriously,” he said to the ceiling, a little wistfully.

“I asked Kimbe about it too.”

“You’re not kidding around. What’d she say?”

Connor rubbed his forehead. “I got lost somewhere along the plant metaphor but Sadaka summed it up by saying that Kimbe was telling me to follow my heart.”

“Sadaka always says it like it is. So where does your heart lead?”

Uh, to Kevin Price? Connor wasn’t sure he could say that to Poptarts so he settled on the next closest thing. “Um, out of the closet?”

“Wow.” Poptarts’ eyes were wide. “That’s like…wow. I’m glad.”

Connor wasn’t sure if had actually just come out to Poptarts or if Poptarts had gently hauled him out of the closet. “Um, thanks. Really.”

“Am I the first you’ve told? Like formally?”

Connor laughed softly, “Yeah. Yeah, I think you are.”

Poptarts grinned. “I’m so honoured.”

They both laid in silence for a moment.

“I knew, though. It was so obvious. I was just waiting for you to catch up.”

Connor rolled his eyes. “I know, I know.”

Poptarts smiled. “Just so we’re clear on that. So, are you going to tell your parents?”

Connor took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think so. When we get back.”

Poptarts bit his lip. “That’s in…a month? How do you think they’re going to take it?”

Connor stared at the ceiling. He never had realized there was a little crack in it. “I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

It hadn’t gone well, Connor reflected. His mom had pressed her lips together into a thin line and her eyes had filled with tears as she cried, “We sent you to therapy! How could you do this to us?”

And, he was glad to be unhurt after watching his father’s eyes go dark with anger as he spat, “If you keep insisting you’re gay, you are no longer part of this family. You have 15 minutes to pack your bags. Don’t come back. You’re not my son.”

As grateful as he was to be fine (mostly, anyway – he was shaking a little and his chest was tight), he was still homeless and stranded on a park bench near his house.

Eying his dying phone with trepidation, he scrolled through his contacts, knowing that his only real hope was this little-used number. Taking in a deep breath, he dialed.

“Hello?”

Connor nearly cried out in relief. “Aunt Alex? It’s me, Connor.”

“Connor? Hey, I haven’t heard from you in so long – I’m surprised your mom let you keep my number. God, how long has it been…at least ten years?”

“Yeah, something like that. I miss talking to you.”

She chuckled, “Well, so do I. Hey, I guess you can do what you want now, being a full-fledged adult and all. Did you go on your mission yet?”

“Yes, um, I got back just last week.” Connor took a deep breath. His heart was pounding. “Uh, there’s no good way for me to say this and I hate that I’m calling you out of nowhere like this after ten years of not talking but...I- I really need help.”

“Connor, what’s wrong?” He could hear the frown in her voice. “It’s okay. I’m here for you, alright?”

He gnawed on a fingernail for a moment, thankful that his aunt was letting him take his time. “I- I told my parents that...I’m- I’m gay.”

He heard an intake of breath. “Oh Connor, sweetie.” Her voice hardened. “I suppose my idiot of a sister and her equally ridiculous husband kicked my favourite nephew out.”

Connor’s snort of a laugh came out somewhat wet – when had he started crying? He collected himself, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose. He felt a little warmer inside as he replayed her words. He was someone’s favourite.

“I don’t know if I would have called my...um…” he felt a strange hole in his chest, “estranged parents that, but yes.”

Even through the line, he could tell that she was rolling her eyes. “Whatever you say, my sweet nephew. Well, you need somewhere to stay and get your footing again.” He heard the clicking of a keyboard. “How about you come stay with your black sheep of an aunt? I think you’ll like San Jose, though we’re going to get you lots of sunscreen. Oh Connor, are you crying again?”

He was. “I would love to come stay with you,” he sobbed. Oh gosh, he sounded like such a mess.

Aunt Alex’s voice was warm and gentle, “Connor, take a deep breath, okay? I’m buying you a ticket right now and you can come stay with me. It’s going to be okay.” Connor made a noise of agreement in response. “Now,” she said, “do you have a way to get to the airport?”

Connor wiped his eyes again. He really needed to stop crying. “Um, yeah, I got some money from the bank this morning because I didn’t know what would happen. So I can get a cab, I guess.”

“There’s my smart boy.” He could hear the pride in her voice and he had to hold back the urge to cry again. “Done – I’ve sent the ticket to you. Flight’s at 12:30 A.M. so you’ve an hour and a half to get there. And once you’re on the flight,” her voice grew colder, “you bet I’m going to call my sister and have a few choice words with her. And, I’m telling her I’m going to corrupt you to my atheist ways.”

Connor laughed softly. “Well, I don’t know if can call myself an atheist…”

“Connor,” her tone was soft, “I couldn’t care less about what you believe as long as you believe in yourself as well.”

Connor cried for a long time after that.

 

* * *

 

Connor walked off the plane, pink suitcase in one hand, cell phone gripped in the other. He felt completely drained and his body ached with tiredness. He hadn’t thought of anything past getting on the plane and trying not to scare his seat partner by breaking down in tears. He dazedly walked through the terminal, realizing that he hadn’t even asked Aunt Alex about anything past his flight. Was she picking him up? Otherwise, he didn’t even know where she lived.

He walked out into the arrivals area, feeling lost and awkward among the kissing couples, hugging families, and purposeful executives with their clicking shoes.

“Connor? Hey, love.” He turned and was immediately engulfed in a hug; though he hadn’t seen – much less hugged – his aunt in years, she felt as warm and safe as she had when he’d been a child. He buried his face in her fuzzy sweater.

“I missed you,” he said, voice muffled.

He felt her rub his back. “I missed you too.” She drew back to look at him. Connor could imagine that he looked like a mess with puffy, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, but she just said, “Look at you; you’re so tall! What did you do, sprout up foot after I left?”

He smiled. “Something like that.” She looked more-or-less the same; her brown hair was a touch redder than it used to be and her eyes were framed by a few more laugh lines.

“Let’s go, you must be tired.” She took him by the arm, expertly guiding him through the crowd. “I’m taking a day off tomorrow so we can get you settled in and we can catch up. Can you believe was have ten years to catch up on? I’m so excited. But first,” she unlocked the car door and motioned him to put his bag in the trunk, “we’re going to get you in a bed and you can sleep in however late you want to.”

“That sounds good.” Connor stared out the window as she pulled out of the parking spot. He had to ask her what had been on his mind most of the plane ride over. “Aunt Alex?”

“Hmmm?”

Connor turned to look at her. “How did you do it? When you left.”

“Hmmm.” She navigated out of the parking lot as she thought. “I won’t lie – it was hard. But I knew I had been moving away from the Church for some time and I was old enough to know myself. I knew I had to do it even if it hurt for a while. But Connor,” she pulled to a stop at a red light and took his hand, “you’re not alone. I’m here for you, okay?”

He nodded, leaning back and settling against the headrest. He looked at his aunt as she drove, her hands as steady and certain on the wheel as they had been on the day she walked out of the family gathering because no one accepted the idea that family and the Church could be separate things.

“I think I’m still scared,” he said finally. “I was scared of losing myself because of the Church but now I’ve left and I’m terrified.”

“I know, Connor. You are so brave, you know that? I promise it’s going to get better. We’re going to figure this out.”

 

* * *

 

Connor growled. He hated when people interrupted his bootleg binges. Searching his bed for the ringing device, he picked up with a sigh. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Connor McKinley?” a voice crackled through the line.

“Uh, yes, that’s me.” Connor scratched his head, idly wondering if he would have to defend himself against yet another distant relative or a ‘friendly’ Mormon from his congregation. He’d fielded enough of those calls in the past six months.

“Hey Connor, it’s Kevin. Kevin Price?”

Connor shot up from where he had been lounging in the cushions and somehow managed to tumble onto the floor. He shot a baleful look at his reflection from his awkward sprawl in front of the mirror.

“Connor? Are you there?”

“Uh, yep yep! Uh, just trying to find a spot with a better signal! You’re a bit static-y.”

“Hmm.” Connor could hear Kevin shuffling around. “Is this better?”

Connor had missed that voice. “Yeah, it’s a lot better.” He propped himself up, leaning his back against the bed. “How’ve you been?”

“Good! I got back three months ago.” There was a hint of an accusatory tone in Kevin’s voice. “Just been figuring out what I’m doing for school and stuff since then.”

Connor bit his lip. He had wanted to call Kevin everyday for three months, but had been too afraid to do it. “Oh, neat! So, what are you doing?”

“Well, that’s kind of why I called, actually. I’m leaving Utah soon and I’d like to see you before I go. I can drive down on the weekend or something? If you want, that is.”

Connor’s stomach flip-flopped. Kevin wanted to see him? He wished that he could afford a plane ticket. “Umm, I’m not actually in Utah anymore. I’m staying with my aunt in California now.”

“Wait, California? I’m going to be there in less than a month!”

Connor dropped to his back, heart going far too fast to be healthy. Kevin was coming to California. Someone was smiling on him. Not Heavenly Father, that was for sure. Maybe Satan?

“Oh wow, we should definitely meet up! Where are you going to be?”

“I’m going to be at Stanford, for pre-law. But enough about me; what are you up to?” He heard Kevin shift in his seat, “I’ll come to see you.”

If Kevin kept saying things like that, his heart was going to be racing permanently. “Congratulations on Stanford, that’s wonderful!” Connor gushed. “I’m not doing much – I’m just about to start doing some social work courses at San Jose State and I’m teaching dance on the side to help pay for school.”

“Teaching dance?” Connor could hear the grin in Kevin’s voice, “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Connor heard the clicking of a mouse. “Okay, so it’s about a half-hour drive,” Kevin said, “that’s not bad at all. What are your weekends like?”

They made plans to meet the second weekend of September, Kevin dismissing Connor’s queries of whether he’d want to be on campus to meet new people and hung up with promises to keep in touch over the next month. Connor felt absolutely no motivation to move after they finished talking, so he stayed where he was on the floor, his phone on his chest while he stared at the ceiling.

Some time later, he heard, “Connor? You okay?” Connor tilted his head backwards, looking at the upside-down face of his aunt.

“Kevin’s coming,” he said, looking at her with wide eyes. She sighed, ambling over to him. Pushing his laptop out of the way, she flopped belly-down on the bed and propped her head on her hands so that she could peer over the edge at him.

“So. Who’s Kevin?”

Connor told her the whole story, skimming over the parts of Uganda she already knew about and stressing all the parts about Kevin that he hadn’t elaborated on the first time around. He finished with, “So, um yeah, I really like Kevin. But he probably doesn’t like me like that. And I didn’t call him even though he told me to call and I knew exactly which day he got back from his mission. Because I’m a coward? Or an idiot, anyway. And now we’re meeting in a month and I’m probably going to be a wreck for the next while. A wreck again, I mean. Sorry.”

“Oh Connor, what am I going to do with you?” Aunt Alex buried her face in the bed, groaning in frustration. “You ran from this boy for half a year? And you really, really like him?”

“I had a lot of things going on, okay? And he only got back three months ago, so it’s not like I was running for all six months!”

She threw a cushion at his head, which he dodged. “You’re still an idiot. You know,” she said pensively, “I think that it sounds like he does like you.”

Connor covered his face with his hands. “You can’t just say something like that!”

“Hey, I’m a software engineer, not a counsellor. I don’t need to have tact.”

Connor peeked through his fingers at her. “He didn’t call me until today though. If he liked me, he probably would have called sooner.”

“Weren’t you the one who was supposed to call him?” she said – quite logically, he loathed to admit. “And it’s still better than you, Mr. I-didn’t-call-him-at-all.”

He batted away the pillow that she dropped down on him. “I was scared!”

“And he isn’t?” she countered.

“Kevin isn’t scared of anything,” he scoffed.

She gave him a wicked smile. “I think you’ll find that feelings scare pretty much everyone.” She slipped off the bed and put her hands on her hips. “Now get up and help me cook dinner. You may as well put that nervous energy towards something productive.”

 

* * *

 

Connor stared at his shaking hands, then clasped his palms together so that he would at least appear calm. He was sitting outside at a café’s rickety table, untouched hot chocolate on the table. He checked his watch for the third time in the last minute and sighed. He was fairly certain Kevin would be here in ten minutes, precise and punctual as always.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind him.

Connor stood up so quickly that he nearly knocked over the table. There he was, Kevin Price in full glory: still a bit tan from Uganda, eyes twinkling, mouth split in a wide grin. Though he had envisioned seeing Kevin again (many times – too many times), Connor suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Were they going to shake hands like associates? Pat each other on the back like buddies?

Kevin answered the question for him, stepping up to engulf him in hug that felt like a warm blanket on a chilly night, like sundaes at the pier with his aunt, like his students laughing after successful tap routine. He squeezed Kevin a bit closer, hoping he didn’t notice, and held on.

When they separated, they took a seat at the table. Connor sighed internally; he’s been in the presence of Kevin for less than a minute and he already felt off-kilter. He had forgotten how Kevin’s brightness and warmth made him feel.

Kevin, on the other hand, looked composed. “It’s so good to see you again,” he said, smiling. “How’ve you been?”

“Great! It’s good to see you.” By the time his sluggish mind had caught up to his mouth, he had already blurted out, “I really missed you.” He felt his face warm.

Thankfully, Kevin didn’t seem to notice his embarrassment. “I missed you too,” Kevin said, with a shy smile. Glancing down, he pushed himself back from the table, wincing as the chair made a screech at the sudden movement. “Um, I think I’m going to get a coffee. Do you want anything?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’m okay, thanks,” Connor replied, gesturing to his hot chocolate and grateful for a moment alone to get his bearings. Kevin nodded, heading inside the cafe.

By the time Kevin returned, Connor felt decidedly more settled. He smiled as Kevin took a sip from his cup, shuddered, and added another packet of sugar.

“You look happy,” Kevin said, “California’s clearly been good to you. How long’ve you been here?”

Connor sipped his lukewarm drink. “About six months now. I do really like it,” he said, realizing how true that was. Happiness hadn’t used to be this simple.

“Six months? That was basically right after you got back from your mission… What happened? I remember you said it was a story too long to explain over text. I mean, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to…”

Connor held up a hand to stop Kevin’s rambling. “I don’t mind sharing it with you,” he said, feeling oddly serene, as if he was about to narrate a stranger’s life. “Uh, well, long story short, I told my parents that I’m...gay. And they kicked me out.” He cupped his hands around his mug. “There’s a much longer story, but it’s a lot.”

Kevin’s eyes were wide. “Oh gosh...I’m sorry that happened.”

Connor shrugged ruefully. “Thanks. Things are better now though, I guess.”

Kevin frowned. “Do you want to tell me the whole story? We have time.”

Looking at Kevin, who was leaning forward, looking very patient and calm, Connor nodded and told him everything. By the end, Kevin’s eyes looked a bit watery and Connor suspected that his were the same.

“Wow, I really want to meet your aunt now.”

Connor laughed. “She really is something.”

“So,” Kevin hesitated, “you’re not part of the Church anymore?”

Connor pursed his lips. “Not exactly, no. I don’t really know what I am? I’m still trying to figure out if I believe in,” he waved his hands vaguely, “something. How about you? Are you still with the Church?”

Kevin fiddled with the spoon on the saucer. “No. I think I still believe in Heavenly Father, but not the Church. I realized that I don’t agree with a fair number of things the Church endorses.”  
Connor tilted his head, wondering what exactly those things were, but Kevin continued on. “My family isn’t exactly happy about that. They’re giving me the cold shoulder right now but they’re going to at least support me through my first degree and stuff. I think it’s going to take some time.” He let out a huff of breath. “I’m not going home for Thanksgiving, that’s for sure.”

“You can always come spend Thanksgiving with us,” Connor offered. “I’m sure my aunt would be happy to have you.”

Kevin smiled. “Thank you. Really.”

Connor watched as Kevin took a sip of his coffee. He looked comfortable out of Mission clothes, relaxed and content, even through his eyes looked tired. “So, how are the first few weeks of school so far?” Connor asked.

They talked for a while longer, catching up with everything they’d missed since Connor had left.

“Yeah, so Arnold is reading up on immigration stuff to see whether it’s even possible for Naba to move here, but she doesn’t want to leave Uganda because it’s her home and she doesn’t want to leave Mafala, obviously. But Mafala wants her to go and is trying to persuade her. Arnold’s also taking a few courses at college and working at this place that sells movies, which – besides being the perfect place for him – is helpful because calls to Uganda are apparently _really_ expensive.”

“Wow, that’s good for him. It sounds like he has a lot going on.”

Kevin laughed. “I’ve never seen him so focused.”

Connor nodded, smiling. “He really cares about Naba.” He murmured a quick thanks to the barista who came to pick up their mugs. “We should go – I think they’re closing soon.”

Kevin checked his watch, “Darn, I completely lost track of time. Guess I’m going to late for therapy,” he said, as they stood to leave.

Connor frowned. “Therapy? Is everything okay?”

Kevin pushed his hands into his jean pockets. “Yeah, I’m just working through some things that happened in Uganda.”

Connor’s forehead creased further. “Did something happen that I didn’t know about?”

“Hey, everything’s okay. Stop frowning like that – I will tell you...sometime soon. I promise. I just don’t think I’m ready yet?”

Connor pursed his lips. “Okay, I understand. I’m here to talk, okay?”

Kevin smiled. “Thanks. And don’t worry, you’ll never be in want of more text messages from me,” he joked as they walked back to their cars.

 

* * *

 

“Thanks for giving me a ride again,” Connor said through the open car window, as he wrapped his jacket tighter around him in the November chill.

“No problem,” Kevin said cheerfully. “Have a good class – make sure you get those kids in order!”

Connor waved to Kevin over his shoulder and opened the door to the dance studio. It was still quiet; a few kids were there early and chattering amongst themselves while their parents were clustered near the door, caught up in their own conversation.

One of the girls ran over to give him a hug. “Are we gonna learn the rest of the routine today, Connor?” she asked, grabbing his hand and towing him over to the crowd. The other kids were sitting on the ground, putting on their tap shoes as they talked.

He ruffled her hair. “I think we’ll go over what we learned last time to see how much you all remember first. And then, yes, Isabelle, we’ll start with the rest of the routine,” he said, bending down to re-tie Nathan’s mangled shoelace.

“Connor?” He twisted around to look over his shoulder. “You forgot this in the car,” Kevin said, coming over with his bag in hand.

Connor’s mouth twisted into a rueful smile. “Thanks so much. Gosh, it would’ve been embarrassing to try to tap without proper shoes.”

Kevin’s eyes were bright with mirth. “No kidding. Have a good class!”

As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, Isabelle poked his arm and asked loudly, “Is that your boyfriend?”

Connor felt his face redden. There were five little faces looking at him in askance – not to mention the parents who were looking on as well. He could truthfully say no but then the parents might start wondering if he was gay and who knows how they’d react. It’d spread like wildfire through the parents and they might not want him around their kids anymore and-

“Isabelle, that’s none of your business.” Isabelle’s mother came around to tap her daughter on the head. “Stop being so nosy, young lady.”

Isabelle pouted. “I just want to know! So, is he?”

Nathan, who was now struggling with his other shoelace, asked, “Connor, why are you so red?”

If it was possible, Connor blushed even harder.

“Anne, your daughter certainly knows how to give someone a hard time,” one of the dads teased as he came over to help his son with his other shoe. “Though perhaps Nathan is getting there as well.”

Connor wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, willing his face to cool down. “Uh, no, Kevin’s not my boyfriend.”

Anne raised an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. Nathan’s dad muttered something under his breath that sounded vaguely like ‘that’s too bad’. And little Jo, Isabelle’s far more merciful sister, tugged him over to show him the stickers she had put on her tap shoes. And that was that.

When Connor told Aunt Alex the story over dinner, she smiled, saying, “You do know that most people here aren’t going to bite your head off for being gay.”

Connor sighed. “I know, and I’m glad. Just getting used to it, I guess. It’s a hard one to leave behind.”

His aunt nodded, eyes gentle. “Well,” she said, putting down her knife, “speaking of Kevin, when do I get to meet your beau?”

Connor ran a hand over his face. “You’re just as bad as Isabelle. For the last time,” he said, pointing a fork at her, “he’s not my beau.”

“Yet.” She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. “Keep working on it. So, when do I get to meet him?”

Connor groaned. She was really far too cheeky to be in her thirties. “I can ask him if he wants to come later this month for Thanksgiving?”

She smiled. “Good. I look forward to meeting him then.” She got up to start loading the dishwasher.

“He hasn’t said yes yet, you know.”

She turned around to roll her eyes at him. “We both know he will. Stop being ridiculous.”

 

* * *

 

Connor was contemplating between two brands of soap when Kevin walked up to him.

“I thought you were just coming with me to go grocery shopping? Why are you buying stuff? Didn’t you and your aunt go to Costco yesterday?”

“We did. This,” he said, gesturing to the basket, “is for our Ugandan friends. Do you think Naba likes vanilla or lavender?”

“Mmm, probably vanilla.” Kevin peered into the basket. Connor watched as Kevin rifled past the chocolate bars for Mafala, the Pop-Tarts for Kimbe, the animal crackers for Kimbe’s son, the ketchup for Gotswana, the gummy bears for Mutumbo, and the scattering of other American items that he knew all the villagers liked. “You’re sending them condoms too?” Kevin asked, finally reaching the bottom of the basket.

“Mmhmm,” Connor answered distractedly as he tried to remember what was next on his mental checklist.

“Do you do this all the time?” Connor looked up from browsing razors. Kevin was biting his lip and looking a little lost. Connor’s forehead creased in a frown as he turned to face Kevin.

“Whenever I can I guess. It’s pretty expensive to send things.” The look on Kevin’s face didn’t shift and Connor resolved to probe Kevin if he kept looking like that. Tossing a packet of razors into the basket, Connor craned his neck to peer over the shelf and mused to himself, “Now, first aid stuff…”

“Next one over, I think.” Kevin leaned over to pick up the basket and headed down the aisle.

“I can carry that, you know,” Connor groused as he hurried to catch up. “You’re already carrying your own.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Kevin sighed. “I didn’t even think to send stuff back. And I’ve been back here for months.”

Connor sighed internally as he shook his head, understanding what had been bothering Kevin. “You’ve had your own things to work through.”

“You did too.” Kevin placed the basket down as Connor stopped to compare two packages of gauze. “Besides, you don’t even know what I’m working through – it could nothing, for all you know.”

Connor shot him a look of disbelief. “You’re being ridiculous.” He swept two packets of medical tape off the shelf. “I know you and it’s not nothing.” He swiveled Kevin around with a hand on his shoulder, noting the almost imperceptible flinch from his touch that he thought had disappeared after Kevin came back from Uganda. “Tampons next. Are you done shopping?”

Kevin didn’t respond to his question, frowning as he hefted both baskets. Connor hummed as he loaded the basket, waiting for Kevin to speak.

“What do you think happened?” Kevin challenged.

“I don’t like guessing.” Connor turned around to look at Kevin, who had put the baskets down and was now watching him warily with his arms crossed. “All I know is that you still don’t like it when someone initiates contact, especially if it’s unexpected. You almost flew out of your chair when that guy brushed against you at the cafeteria the other day.

“But, I also know you’re doing a lot better than when we were in Uganda: you’re fine with touching me and you generally don’t jump if I touch you. You look like you sleep better now than you did in September. You actually tell me when you’re heading to therapy now instead of making an excuse.” Connor put his hands on his hips. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to tell me, but don’t pretend I don’t have eyes.”

Kevin stared at him. His mouth opened, then closed. His eyes darted around as if he was searching for something to prompt him. He attempted to speak again, then bit his lip as he turned his gaze to look at the floor.

Connor wanted to thump his head against a nearby shelf. What happened to not pushing Kevin and being a good friend? Now, he had messed it up. Hunching forward, Connor busied himself with picking up his basket, avoiding Kevin’s eyes.

He froze as Kevin wrapped a hand around his fists, which were gripping the basket. “I didn’t realize-” Kevin cut himself off, looking impatient. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he said. He tilted his head. “I know you have eyes – very nice ones, in fact. And clearly very observant ones as well.” he said with a slight smile.

Connor willed his face to not blush – but did Kevin just compliment him?

“Sorry for the rant,” Connor muttered when the silence stretched for a moment too long. He felt jittery with Kevin’s hand covering his.

Kevin continued to watch him, gaze open and sincere. “Thanks for being patient with me.” Kevin squeezed Connor’s hand. “You do know that I do trust you, right? Why else do you think I’m comfortable with you touching me?”

Connor stared, unsure of how to respond to Kevin. His heart was leaping with joy, his brain was exiting his head, and his gut was twisting like it could see the impending drop on a rollercoaster. Was this what complete and utter infatuation felt like? It wasn’t very comfortable.

Kevin pried the handles from Connor’s death grip to reclaim the basket. “You still in there somewhere?” Connor gave a jerky nod in in lieu of a verbal response. “I still need to get ice cream, by the way. Someone,” he gave Connor a pointed look, “finished off the last of tub on Sunday.”

Kevin walked off, both baskets in hand, the line of his shoulders a little looser than before.

Connor stared after Kevin. “Kevin Price, you are beyond incredible,” he whispered to the empty aisle. After a long moment, he shook himself and knocked on his forehead with his hand. “Try to be normal,” he chastised himself, and loped off to find Kevin.

 

* * *

 

“I brought you a doughnut,” Connor sang as he walked up to Kevin. “Gosh, did you have to choose a studying spot on campus that’s such a long walk from the parking lot? And up a hill?”

“I like this spot,” Kevin said defensively as he put down his textbook. “It’s quiet, no one ever comes here, _and_ the sunsets are pretty.”

Connor handed him a paper bag. “No one comes here because it’s cold. It’s December – why don’t you study inside like a normal person?” He shivered as he took a seat on the bench next to Kevin.

Kevin tossed him the extra hoodie he’d brought along. “Here, wear this then.” Connor slipped the sweater on, subtly pressing his nose against the sweater and inhaling the scent. He tucked a hand in the pocket as Kevin peered into the paper bag. “I hope this isn’t maple glaze. I-”

“Hate maple glaze, I know. You told me, remember?” Connor said, biting into his own doughnut. “It’s chocolate – obviously. You always like chocolate after a bad day. Please, who do you think I am?” He rolled his eyes. “I know you. Getting the right doughnut is easy. It’s not even a challenge.”

The lack of a retort from Kevin made him look up. Kevin was staring at him with an odd look on his face. Connor frowned. “Kevin, are you okay? You look...confused?”

Kevin blinked, eyes focusing and suddenly bright with an intensity that Connor didn’t understand. “No, I’m not confused.” He searched Connor’s face for a moment, then seemed to nod to himself. Connor watched in puzzlement as Kevin tilted his head, and looking at Connor as if he was the answer to a question, said, “Can I just…?”

And then Kevin was kissing him, lips dry and a little chapped, and Connor was frozen. Too soon, Kevin drew away. The glimpse of Kevin’s furrowed brow spurred Connor into action. He leaned forward to close the gap again, a shaking hand coming up to settle at the nape of Kevin’s neck. Kevin made a startled sound against his mouth but kissed him back, his lips curving up into a smile as his hand brushed along Connor’s jaw.

Connor’s brain screamed at him to back away: everything about this felt like losing his footing at the end of a cliff. But, for once, he told his frantic mind to quiet as he leaned into the starlight.

When they finally parted, Kevin’s grin was enough to make Connor bend in again and kiss the corner of his mouth. “Again,” Kevin requested, and Connor obliged him again and again, dotting his face with kisses.

Finally, Connor leaned back, feeling giddy as Kevin gently stroked his cheek. His smile felt too wide for his face and he thought his heart might burst.

“Wow,” Connor said, sounding more breathless and less composed than he would like.

Kevin chuckled, his eyes soft. “I’m so glad that went well.”

Connor blinked. “Did you think it wouldn’t?

“I was so afraid that you might not like me back,” Kevin confessed as his fingers carded through Connor’s hair.

Connor couldn’t help but smirk a little – uncertainty was such an foreign emotion on Kevin’s face.

Kevin pouted. “Hey, you didn’t call me when I got back! What was I supposed to think?”

Connor chuckled. “I was terrified, to say the least,” and Kevin nodded, a smile in his eyes. “But you kissed me anyway – even though you weren’t sure?” Connor asked.

“Well, one of us had to give it a shot and I was pretty sure it had to be me. And also,” Kevin looked down, “Naba said she was 100% sure you liked me and she has pretty good judgement, so…”

Connor chuckled. For all of Kevin’s overthinking, he might as well not bother – regardless of what conclusion he arrived at, he would still jump into the abyss with hope as his only parachute.

“Stop laughing at me,” Kevin muttered. When Connor didn’t stop, Kevin leaned forward to nip at his lower lip, then swiped his tongue to soothe the spot as Connor parted his lips in invitation. Kevin tilted his head to press their mouths together, tongues tentatively brushing, then touching more confidently. Connor made a sound of encouragement, pushing into the hands that were cupping his face.

“I don’t think I can stop touching you now that I’ve started,” Connor said as they parted, sounding a little short of breath.

“Stay then,” Kevin said, reaching down to take his hand. “You don’t have class till tomorrow afternoon, right? We can watch a movie, talk, and then sleep.” His mouth twisted wryly. “Dorm room beds will be a bit of a squeeze, but we can snuggle?”

Kevin’s hopeful look and hint of a pout were enough to persuade Connor. He nodded, grinning as Kevin pulled him up to stand. “That sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

Connor McKinley was 22 years old when he had his first kiss.

It had felt like bursting into the sunlight after being held underwater for too long, the burning in his lungs ebbing with each intake of breath. It had also felt like slipping and falling, panic choking him in the frozen moment.

But, the hands holding his face had been warm and gentle and he knew that they would catch him.

Connor McKinley was also 22 years old when he discovered that the truth was not dark or shameful or the least bit bitter. It was so much better to be loved for the truth in him than the lies that he told. He felt like he was finally hearing what people like Mafala, Aunt Alex, Naba, Poptarts, and Kevin – always Kevin – had been telling him all along. They had always seen the truth in him even when he couldn’t see it himself.

Connor wasn’t quite sure but he thought, as he burrowed closer to Kevin, that maybe those seemingly unending moments of loneliness and memories of being told that his joy was a sin and the jeers like slaps on his face have been worth it for the candlelight of Kevin’s eyes and the sound of his name said with the reverence of a prayer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is an inexact melding of two quotes I thought were fitting (the credit goes to the 2 insightful people who said them):  
> “A certain darkness is needed to see the stars.” - Osho  
> “I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being.” - Hafiz of Shiraz
> 
> Again, I’d _love_ to hear your thoughts (criticisms! rants! what you liked! what you didn't!). Your feedback definitely helps me learn and (hopefully) grow as a writer


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